


Frayed Edges Of The Head

by Yelposaurus



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Angels, Clouds, Heaven, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yelposaurus/pseuds/Yelposaurus
Summary: "I don't know." They look up. "A rope, or your words, or maybe even your mind. You'll find something, and when you do, I don't think I'll be able to get you out of it."I know my mind is already knotted at the edges, a tangle mess of frayed ends of rope and mazes of twists and turns. 
I can't let it get any worse.Their face looks like the stars: old and wise and lost andstupidlyhopeful in so many ways I don't yet understand, even the notion of it having to many smooth edges and round corners to fit into my knotted mind.But maybe in the future, As the knots untie themselves by my hand or another's, that simple, easy idea of some kind of hope can find solace in the heart of it all, and tie itself some simple twists inside.
Kudos: 1





	Frayed Edges Of The Head

I hear their wings before I see them.  
Angel wings always sound so pretty. Like delicate finger plucking at a harp, or melancholy whispers that don't quite touch the breeze, straying from your ears.  
They sound like flowers and rain, music and life. The ups and the downs. The smiles and the frowns. All of it.  
Angel wings thump along to the beat of their heart, their music, their life.

The same cannot be said for me, however.  
Not for me, something without wings.

So I sit on this cloud, listening to the sound of an angel's wings, wondering just how, exactly, I got up here.  
I don't know. My memory's a little foggy. It makes me smile. 

My thoughts are slowed by the angel that sits down next to me, the sound of their wings fading. 

"Hello," they say.

"Morning," I say back.  
There's a stretch of silence that is common and comfortable. I look down at the humans pottering about their daily lives, bodies only tiny little specks.  
"What do you think life is like, for them down there?" I ask, nodding my head down towards the ground. I feel them relax beside me, the easy flow of conversation flooding their mind. 

"Simple. Easy." They steal a glance at me. "Safe."  
It makes me sigh. I didnt want to have this conversation right now,not when I'm still fiddling around with all the knots inside my head. 

"I'm not going to stay here while you're all out risking something worse than death. I thought you knew that." I turn away from them, not wanting to see their wings. (pretty, pretty wings.)  
I wander my thoughts for a little while, getting lost before I find myself again and again.  
They make me miss a breath when they speak once more. 

_"Do you trust God?"_ they ask, and I don't understand the feeling masked in their voice.  
I think a little more, though I already know the answer. 

"God is the one who leads us, leads you. I have to, don't I?" I glance at them this time, and find them looking some kind of hopeful. 

"No," they say softly, into the wind. "No, _I don't think you do."_

Their words send me back into my thoughts again, twisting and turning through the blunt knots inside my head. It makes me question, makes me answer. Draws my conclusions before I even know the points.  
I think I've known the answer to a certain question for a long time.  
I _know_ I've known it.

I think they may have shoved me over some kind of edge or line or cliff, throwing me out into the unknown like I'm a thought they've decided they want to play with. Tossing me around in the dark like a blown out lightblub on a string.  
They've chucked me into the sea, but I feel as though they may just jump in too.  
Although, I think I'm finally learning how to swim on my own. 

And as they always say, you have to jump in the deep end first - so I do. 

_"I don't think I really believe anymore,"_ I say. I breathe deeply, trying to calm my frayed edges. Saying something like that in someplace like this... I think it might just be a first. But the consequences of such words - what could happen to me - it sends shivers sprinting down my spine, my throat closing up like its suddenly decided that I shouldn't ever talk anymore, and my eyes sting at the corners as though I need to shut them but I _dont,_ because I want them to know that this is _real,_ that I might just have thrown my heart up right out of my chest.

But I can't look at their face, not when I can hear my heart _thump thump thumping_ in between us as we sit on this cloud.  
My fingers grasp at the feathery lightness of it, trying to find some way to release all this anxiety.  
I sit almost perfectly still, and listen to the beat.

"That's alright," they say into the silence.  
And I feel like I need to justify it, to say something for them, since they've helped me ever so much.  
They've become someone I trust. 

"But.. if I did..." I say stiltingly, and I don't really think about the words falling out of my mouth."I.. I might just bow down for you." 

It's a stab in the dark, something that hasn't ever been done before. That idea, the thought that I could be the first in a line of many fills me up to my eyes with courage.  
It's just enough to lift my head, and look them in the eye.

Their face looks like the stars: old and wise and lost and _stupidly_ hopeful in so many ways I don't yet understand, even the notion of it having to many smooth edges and round corners to fit into my knotted mind.  
But maybe in the future, As the knots untie themselves by my hand or another's, that simple, easy idea of some kind of hope can find solace in the heart of it all, and tie itself some simple twists inside. 

It makes me realise that I want to be beside the angel sitting in front of me till heaven itself falls right down to earth.  
"Onky you, I think," I say, _breathless,_ barely a whisper. "I'm not too sure."

They laugh, and the stars that we can't yet see seem to fall straight out of the sky. 

"Don't think so much," they say, a small smile on their face now. "You'll tie yourself up if you do." 

"With what?" I ask, because I'm not too sure about what they mean. Their mood turns sad, wistful almost.

"I don't know." They look up. "a rope, or your words, or maybe even your mind. You'll find something, and when you do, I don't think I'll be able to get you out of it."

I know my mind is already knotted at the edges, a tangled mess of frayed ends of rope and mazes of twists and turns.  
I can't let it get any worse. 

I say, "I'll be careful, " because I will. For them.

"Sure," the word barely reaching my ears, almost blown away by the wind, as if they don't quite belive me. "Sure."

I notice our hands lying together on the clouds, fingers knotted around each other, careful and grounding.

The knots at the edge of my mind begin to unravel, if only slightly. 

But, however small, it's still a start.


End file.
